This is how the affair occurred:—The Count de Barmont, at the time commanding the Erigone, twenty-six gun frigate, after a lengthened cruise in the Algerian waters to protect French merchant vessels against the Barbary pirates, steered for the states of Gibraltar, in order to reach the Atlantic, and return to Brest, whither he had orders to proceed at the end of his cruise; but just as he was about to pass through the Straits, he was caught by a squall, and after extraordinary efforts to continue his course, which almost cast him on to the coast of Africa, owing to the strength of the wind and the rough, chopping sea, he was obliged to stand off and on for several hours, and finally take refuge in the port of Algeciras, which was to windward of him, on the Spanish coast.
So soon as he had anchored, and made all snug, the commandant, who knew from experience that two or three days would elapse ere the wind veered, and allowed him to pass the Straits, ordered his boat, and went ashore.
Although the town of Algeciras is very old, it is very small, badly built, and scantily populated; at this period, more especially, it only formed, as it were, a poor market town. It was not till after the English had seized Gibraltar, situated on the other side of the bay, that the Spaniards comprehended the importance of Algeciras to them, and have converted it into a regular port.
The Captain had no other motive for landing at Algeciras, than the restlessness natural to sailors, which impels them to leave their vessel as soon as they have cast anchor.
Commercial relations were not established at that time, as they now are. The government had not yet fallen into the custom of sending to foreign ports residents ordered to watch over their countrymen, and protect their transactions—in a word, consulates had not yet been created: only those ships of war, which accident might lead to any port, now and then undertook to procure justice for those of their countrymen, whose interests had been encroached on.
After landing, and giving orders to his coxswain to come and fetch him at sunset, the Captain, merely followed by a sailor, of the name of Michael, to whom he was greatly attached, and who accompanied him everywhere, turned into the winding streets of Algeciras, curiously examining everything that offered itself to view.
This Michael, to whom we shall have several occasions to refer, was a tall fellow, with an intelligent face, about thirty years of age, and who had vowed an eternal devotion to his captain since the day when the latter had risked his life in saving his, by jumping into a boat during a terrible storm four years before, to help him when he had fallen into the sea while going up the shrouds to ease the mainsail.
Since that day Michael had never left the Count, and had always contrived to sail with him. Born in the vicinity of Pau, the country of Henri IV., he was like the king, his fellow countryman, gay, mocking, and even sceptical. An excellent sailor, endowed with tried bravery, and far from ordinary vigour, Michael offered in his person the perfect type of the Béarnaise Basque, a strong and rough, though loyal and faithful race.
Only one individual shared in Michael's heart the unbounded friendship he felt for his chief. This privileged being was a Breton sailor, gloomy and taciturn, who formed a complete antithesis to him, and whom, owing to his slowness, the crew had favoured with the characteristic name of Bowline, which he had accepted, and was so accustomed to answer to it, that he had almost forgotten the name he previously bore.
The service the Count had done Michael, the latter had rendered to Bowline: hence he was attached to the Breton through this very service, and while mocking and teasing him from morning till night, he had a sincere friendship for him.